LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



VERSES. 



,BY 



KATE VANNAH. 




PHILADELPHIA: 

B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

1883. 



Ml"! 



Copyright, 1882, by J. B. LiPPINCOTT & Co. 



DEDICATED TO 

ADA V. BALL. 
» 



My friend, mho oft hast listened nnto me, — 

Who reached thy heart at first through Music's voice,- 
Hast lain for hours and lisfejted silently, 

Thou'st never known how her heart did rejoice 
Who oft thy troubled spirit rendered calm. 

Who oft brought solace to thy soul again, 
Some, days unto thy bruised spirit balm, 

Or quiet slumber after hotirs of pain. 

Wliate'er my changeful mood did yield to thee, 

ThotCdst murmur not, bttt give my heart its way ; 

So something tells me thou as kind wilt be 
Toward these simple verses which I lay. 

With thousands of kind wishes, in thy hands : 
Not for the world, but one — who wtderstands. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Looking Back 9 

Refuge . .10 

Full Recognition 11 

A Flower's Name 12 

To George Eliot 13 

Foreboding 14 

A Letter 15 

"The Third the Charm ly" 16 

Which? 17 

Your Birthday . 18 

Night by the Sea 19 

A Dream 20 

To . . . . 21 

Two Wrecks 22 

From Over the Sea .23 

Pawns : A Ring 24 

An Opera-Cloak 25 

A FEAR 26 

I* 5 



6 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Estranged 28 

A June Day in November' ... . , . .30 
With Violets t^t, 

NORINE . . 35 

A Prayer Answp:red 38 

New Year's Eve 40 

A Lament 41 

Decision 44 

After 46 

A White Rose 47 

GOOD-BY 49 

Pearl-Dead . . . . . . . . -51 

To . . . . . .■ . . . .53 

Her Last Wish . .56 

Sympathy 61 

Discouraged . 63 

Divine Reproach 64 

A Magdalen . . . ... , . .66 

Regret . . .68 

Questioning 70 

Disappointment 71 

A Lullaby 73 

In the Firelight 74 

Dies Alba 76 

Vrai jusqu'A la Mort 78 

How She said it 80 



CONTENTS. 



A Man Speaks 

To 

Easter Morn . 

In the Orchard 

Biding Judgment 

In a Convict's Cell 

Death in Life 

Failure . 

A Musical Rhyme 

First Message 

Song 

Turning a Leaf 

Sonnet 

Sonnet 

Sonnet 

Sonnet 

Sonnet 

Sonnet 

Sonnet 

Sonnet 

Good-Night 



85 
87 
88 
90 
92 

94 
96 
98 
100 
104 
106 
108 
109 
no 
III 
112 

"3 

114 

"5 
116 



LOOKING BACK. 

Far back as Memory's eyes can see to-night, 
Along the path that leads to womanhood, 
They can discern no day so fair and good 

As that on which your face dawned on my sight ! 

The added joys of years cannot delight 

My soul as did that hour's. You spoke, and, lo ! 
My heart was satisfied, nor cared to go 

Beyond your reach,' — never seemed life so bright. 

I look once more. Far as my blinded eyes 
Can reach, I see no day one-half so drear 
As when I called you, and you could not hear 

For distance and for waves that drowned my cries. 
If you should come, and call me thus in vain, 
Knowlthat my love grew stronger for that pain. 

9 



REFUGE. 



TO C. P. W. 



As in a storm, to some sweet chapel, calm, 

I hie from wild winds and the lightning's glare, 
And feel secure while bending there in prayer 

Low at the quiet altar, where no harm 

Can enter in to mar the spirit's balm, 

Where, hiding from the world, I weep, and dare 
My heart and soul beneath Christ's Face to bare. 

Till on their quivering strings Peace plays her psalm, 
So, friend of mine, when thorns have pierced my 
heart. 

And lava-tides of passion scorch my soul, 
In spirit do I hasten where thou art, 

And, 'neath thy gentle voice, regain control 

Of my wild heart. Ah ! shall the day dawn never 
When I may have thine actual presence ever? 
lo 



FULL RECOGNITION. 

Over my desk there hangs a picture old, 

Whose age precise to no man now is known. 

I only know 'tis greater than my own 
By years; for, as a little child, I'm told, 
I'd lie for hours and watch the twisted gold 

Of its rich frame. Then, when I'd older grown. 

My interest on the picture dwelt alone. 
Till now, of all my treasures, I do hold 
This picture as the rarest. 

So with thee : 
Though thou wert fair to me that summer day. 

When to a lonely heart thou cam'st to be 
Its blessing, oh, dear one, I cannot say 

How broad, how deep my need is of thee now; 

In my life's crown the rarest jewel thou ! 

n 



A FLOWER'S NAME. 

Down in the tender grasses 'neath my sill, ■ 
Where I lean forth each day to greet the dawn, 
And lean again when light from earth is gone 
To pray for thee, all of its own sweet will, 
A tiny flower has come, so fair and still 
And new to me I've given it thy name; 
And often do I marvel why it came 
The evening air with redolence to fill. 

The first time that I found it blooming there, 
At once I cried, "God answers thus the prayer 
Which every morn and every eve I say 
For my soul's friend, so far, so far away. 
He yields this sign that, after our long pain 
Of separation, we shall meet again." 

12 



TO GEORGE ELIOT. 

You tell of rapture felt by human hearts 

That wake when comes their hour of mutual love ; 
Your own has caught from the Great Heart above 

A sympathy and love divine. When starts 

The mourner's bitter tear, and when departs 
From the worn way a once all spotless dove, 
God-like, you follow on and give your love. 

Which must avail when fail all other arts. 

Regretfully we lay your books aside, 

Feeling as though some glorious symphony 

Which had ennobled life that moment died, 
Whose echo ne'er can die to memory. 

E'en as old masters' music hath defied 
Oblivion, so your words must lasting be ! 



13 



FOREBODING. 

Give me assurance that your love will stay, 
And be my benediction through the year, 
At whose approach I tremble with a fear, 
A terror, lest its hours should lead away 
One heart from which my own could never stray. 
I'm sad as death to-night, — come closer, dear,— 
My foolish heart is troubled ; let me hear 
And feel assurance, my sad fears allay. 
How could I face the cold New Year, and know 
I was not confident that you would go 
Far over ways that will be cold and drear 
Ere summer with her roses reappear ? 
I did not mean to doubt. There, now I know, — 
Come ! o'er the New Year's white paths let us go. 

New Year's Eve. 
14 



A LETTER. 

The words for weary weeks denied my heart, 
When't last they came, an aching void supplied 
With joy that seemed too great, until it tried 

To fill my eyes with crystal drops that start 

When long-missed hands a kind caress impart 
To one whose soul some tenderness in vain 
Has yearned by night and day to know again. 

In anguish past the reach of mortal art. 

I think if once thou couldst but see my face 

Glow, lit with gladness that your letters bring, 
Then see the crimson tide to joy give place, — 

Deep, quiet joy for such a simple thing 
As seems to thee the letter thou dost trace, — 

Each day thou'dst make the heart that loves thee 
sing. 

IS 



''THE THIRD THE CHARM IS." 

The first day that your letter failed me, dear, 
I felt surprise, yet said, "She's occupied, 
And, save sweet thoughts, could spare me naught 
beside ; 

To-morrow morn her letter will be here." 

Morn came, no letter bringing, then a fear 
And — yes — a tear ; yet still I bravely tried 
To look at least as though you had not died ! 

But all that day my eyes were not quite clear. 

Another day, the third. " Now surely she 

My anxious heart will pacify to-day. 
And in her tender letter I shall see 

Regret for this unusual delay." 
But no. I knelt and prayed, oppressed with fear, 
And, rising from my knees, beheld you — here ! 
i6 



WHICH? 

Or I am richer for the sight of thee, 

Which fortune late, in bounteous mood, bestowed, 
Or I was richer while within abode 

The cherished hope that I thy face might see. 

To think that we would meet was ecstasy; 
But, oh ! to know we met, to know we trod 
The self-same paths, — that, clasping hands, we rode 
Through purple shades, along nepenthean ways. 

To haunts of peace and tender fantasy, — 

That, drifting with the idly drifting days, 
We looked our souls into each others' eyes, 
And dreamed the blissful dreams of Paradise, — 

All this to know the richer maketh me. 

For what hath been than what I hoped would be. 
2* 17 



YOUR BIRTHDAY. 



TO M. G. H. 



As soon as I awoke on this dear day, 

I drew ray curtains hastily aside 

(No soul was near to hear me), and I cried 
'' My darling !" so intensely, though you lay 
Far from my side, a thousand miles away 

In dreams, you must have turned to me and sighed. 

The glorious sun was rising, and I tried 
To hide his face, as children, with one hand, 

And for a time was able, till he grew 
So powerful he ruled the entire land ; 

And wheresoe'er the king his glances threw 
A glory was.. A love I thus hid erst 
As gloriously on my life hath burst ! 

March 20. 



18 



NIGHT BY THE SEA. 

Beloved, my beloved, earth would be 

So sweet that heaven itself would be forgot 
If you and I might linger in this spot, 

Might live and die together by the sea, 

Where we have learned to love so deathlessly 
That, whatsoe'er the griefs Fate may allot, 
Not death itself from my glad soul can blot 

Remembrance of the joy you've yielded me. 

That little boat we watched an hour ago 
From darkness steal out to that silver path 

That seems to lead to heaven, we both do know 
Must pass through midnight shadows, now it hath 

So happy lingered in that light ; nor we 

Can heaven have now and in eternity ! 

1-9 



A DREAM. 

Alone I was, alone and tempest-tost ; 
The crescent billow did my boat invest, 
Within the hollow sky a voice unblest 

My shuddering soul appalled with cry of " Lost !" 

My barque had touched the splintering rock almost, 
When, lo ! with sight of Thee fell instant rest 
On earth and air and ocean's stormy breast, 

Nor threatened more the lately frowning coast. 

A dream it was, and yet not all a dream. 
For such the night that did encompass me, 

And such the storm that to my soul did seem 
To threaten shipwreck of eternity. 

When, lo ! unto my heart a heavenly gleam 

Revealed Thee, come to solace and redeem. 
20 



TO 



My own, I came so near to losing you ! 
I tremble when I think we might have met 
As thousands hourly meet, pass, and forget. 
Twice had I seen you, then between us two 
Came Sympathy and Music, and we grew 
To marvel how, twice meeting, eye to eye. 
We thus had, heedless, passed each other by ; 
We were old friends, I think, yet neither knew ! 
A moment more, that third time that we met, 
I could have said good-by without regret, 
But some voice begged you for a song ; I played, 
While you stood near. We left them all, and strayed 
Unto a realm which all may not explore. 
Blest be that song, " The days that are no more !" 



1876. 



TWO WRECKS. 

In my secluded window-seat I lie 

Far back among my pillows, all alone ; 
My other heart doth sweetly sleep, but I — 

I cannot sleep, and, sad, I hear the moan 
Which through my soul goes echoing when wild waves 

Dash on yon cliff, as one night, years ago, 
When hundreds of poor souls found watery graves, 

And all the world seemed one dark waste of woe. 

I ever see one pallid, haunting face 

Among the many looking on the dead. 
I'd give a year of my sweet life for trace 

Of her, so young, so hopeless ! 

" Wrecked !" she said, 

" My life was wrecked a year this very night, 

But I — I cannot die; would God I might !" 

22 



FROM OVER THE SEA. 

"When do you think of me, and how?" Alway, 

Dear questioner, so far from home to-night ! 

"And, /(f//me, — to another I'd say write, — 
Oh ! tell me, docs remembrance from me stray ? 
And have I lost aught by this absence? Nay, 

It is not that I doubt you, but the light 

From these Italian skies, so wondrous, might 
Seem more like heaven's own, as fades the day, 

Had I your answer now." 

How think of thee ? 

If I could clasp that loyal heart of thine 
Close to my breast, and say no word, thou'dst see 

How leal to thee had been this heart of mine. 
It seems so cold to have to write thee this. 
When I could say all — more — in just one kiss ! 

23 



PAWNS. 

I. 

A RING. 

A HEAVY band of gold, within it set 

A diamond, whose every glance betrays 

Perfection, while I, fascinated, gaze. 
Proud princess among jewels ! doth regret 
Ne'er stir thy white heart's depths ? Canst thou forget 

The snowy hand tliou'st graced in other days. 

As night a tear-drop on the lily lays ? 
What tender, tremulous hopes thou didst beget 
In some fair woman's breast ! 

Ah, I believe 
Thy history, if known, would win a tear. 

O'er losing thee, it must be, two hearts grieve ; 
Surely 'twas poverty who dragged thee liere, — 

Estrangement, pride, nor death would ever show 

To careless eyes " My Darling" traced below. 
24 



PA WNS. 

II. 

AN OPERA-CLOAK. 

It might have been a queen's, this lovely thing, 
Of purple and soft, creamy satin made ; 
The breath of some luxurious beauty swayed 
This down, as white as any angel's wing. 
It may have been while she was suffering, 
And very weary of the part she played, 
Her heart away with her dead lover laid, 
While still she strove to lightly laugh and sing. 
I wonder if it ever has belonged 
To one who deemed herself too deeply wronged 
To rise again ? who may have felt a sting 
Beneath this down, because so like the wing 
Of some fair angel, — what she might have been. 
And what she may be now, — for all her sin ? 



25 



A FEAR. 



TO A. 



I. 
"Coming," you write, after three years again. 

Back to the nest you say you always miss; 
And I, in my presumption, dared complain 

That heaven seemed all too long in granting this. 

II. 

Coming — oh ! so eagerly to find me, 

So hopefully ! A fear creeps to my heart 

Lest you, beloved, should astonished be. 

For I am greatly changed — nay, do not start. — 

in. 
I changed in heart ? That change can never be. 
But outwardly, dear one; perhaps I've grown 
Old sooner than I should, because, you see, 

Since you went from my side three years have flown. 
26 



A FEAR. 

IV. 
Did I write " flown" ? Ah me ! I meant not so ; 

Perhaps, if they had flown in truth, not crept, 
I would not over-anxious feel, and grow 

Afraid to lift the eyes that have not slept 

V. 

As they were wont to sleep when you were here. 

Ah ! they are heavy grown in all this while, 
And yet they must grow bright when you draw near, 

And life will come to me with your first smile. 

VI. 

The flowers you loved are out to welcome you. 
All waiting for their friend to come again, ^- 

Chaste lilies, velvet-faces, shy-eyes, blue. 

Ah ! could a woman's eyes, like flowers, for rain 

VII, 

The brighter grow, the tears I've wept for you 
Had brought into the eyes you loved a grace 

That might have proved your old-time praises true ! 
Yet come, my heart has changed not like my face. 



27 



ESTRANGED. 



Do you think, dear love, if we had known 

That, ere another year had flown. 

We should have drifted far apart, 

We who for years claspt heart to heart, 

Do you think we had been more tender? 

II. 

Ah ! to think this is your natal day. 
And I so near, yet miles away ! 
Why, I could reach you in one short hour. 
Yet dare not send you even a flower. 
Not even forget-me-nots ! 

III. 

And I used to know your heart so well 
That I could look in your eyes and tell 
28 



ESTRANGED. 29 

All that was there ; but now, to-day, 

If we should meet, you would turn away, 

Not letting me see your eyes. 

IV. 

Oh ! if you'd look just once again. 
What should I find there, hate or pain, 
Love or longing, or coldness, dear, 
Or— how my heart leaps to dream it — a tear 
Calling me back again ? 



A JUNE DAY IN NOVEMBER. 



TO M. H. 



The wondrous fairness of the day 
Is dying, sweet, for aye, for aye, — 



Dying, and we cannot keep it here 
For all your pleading look or tear. 

III. 

The glory fades from shore and river. 
And we grow still, your dear lips quiver; 

IV. 

As many thoughts as there'll be stars 
Are there behind the crimson bars, 
30 



A JUNE DA Y IN NO VEMBER. 31 

V. 
Longing for words to set them free 
Ere darkness hides your face from me. 

VI. 

How strange that June should come again, 
And bring such joy, then leave such pain 

VII. 

Now as she dies, and bleak November 
Creeps back again. I shall remember 

VIII. 

As long as life with me shall stay 
The beauty of this summer day. 

IX. 

I oft shall see as I see now 

The fairness of your low, sweet brow, 

X. 

Your soulful eyes, your golden hair, — 
The dying sunlight lingering there, 



32 A JUNE DAY IN NOVEMBER. 



XI, 



Making a halo 'round your head, — 
And, oh, your mouth so richly red ! 



XII. 



Your image in the water there 
Is going with the light ; the air 



XIII. 



Is chilly, sweet ; we cannot stay 
Dreaming forever, though one day 

XIV. 

Was fair, and sad, and sweet — all three- 
To you, my loved one, and to me. 

XV. 

The stars are up, the night comes fast ; 
Our day is dead, — forever past ! 

The Cove. 



WITH VIOLETS. 



TO A. C. 



The violets that I send to you 

Will close their blue eyes on your breast , 
I shall not be there, sweet, to see. 

Yet do I know my flowers will rest 

Within that chaste, white nest. 



little flowers, she'll welcome you 
So tenderly, so warmly ! Go ; 

1 know where you will die to-night, 

But you can never, never know 
The bliss of dying so ! 



33 



34 



WITH VIOLETS. 



III. 



If you could speak ! ' Yet she will know 
What made your faces wet, although 

I fain would follow you and tell her. 
There, go, and die, yet never know 
To what a heaven you go ! 



NORINE. 



Sob, then, poor one, if grief 

Wins a moment of relief 

In freeing long-pent waters of the heart ; 

Yet, had these tears been kept 

In your sad heart, and not wept, 

Your slanderers had known one triumph less 



I know 'tis true, Norine, 
That the world has only seen 
That one false step you made long years ago ; 
Never, now, till you are dead. 
Here on earth will it be said 

How kind you were to God's poor ones, Norine, - 

35 



36 NORINE. 

III. 
How you have made them glad, 
When your own face looked so sad ; 
It brought the tears to many a grateful eye. 
Ah, well, poor one, some day. 
When Norine is laid away, 
God will tell these friends you made amends to Him. 

IV. 

You were beautiful and young, 

Envy aimed those darts that stung 

Your discouraged soul when saw the world your fall, 

And I came to you too late 

To save you from their hate, 

But not too late to say, " Repent, Norine !" 

V. 

I know your friends are few, 

Yet, Norine, there's One that's true ; 

And, think ! the saints will be your friend in heaven. 

You will not regret the dearth 

You have had of friends on earth 

When you rest within the Sacred Heart forgiven. 



NORINE. 



VI. 



37 



Hush now, sob no more, Norine ; 

In the eyes of God all clean 

Grows the heart bathed by a Magdalen's sad tears ; 

When your soul is safe at last, 

It will fade, this dreary past, 

When you bathe God's feet with tears of joy, Norine. 



A PRAYER ANSWERED. 



Dear Lord, not for myself I plead, — 

I merit no regard of thine ; 
Scourge thou my nature till I bleed, 

But spare one life so linked with mine. 



So closely linked, although the chain 
That holds us ever heart to heart 

Reaches across the mighty main. 

Nor waves nor years the links can part. 

III. 

I am so strong, my friend so frail 1 

(Am I too bold, dear Christ? Forgive !) 
It hurts to feel the fair face pale ; 

Transfer my strength, let her but live ! 
38 



A PRAYER ANSWERED. 39 

IV. 

Hearts will be broken should she die, 

Whilst, were I taken, only she 
Would raise to heaven a heartfelt cry : 

" No one was half as true to me !" 



Yet not for me stands Death anear, 

But at the bedside of my All ; 
Jesu, my Jesu, only hear 

This prayer : " Thine angel Death recall !" 

O God ! I would I had not cried 

That Thou shouldst spare my then white dove ; 
To-night I would that she had died, — 

Forgive her in Thine infinite love ! 



NEW YEAR'S EVE. 
1880. 

Reach out, my brave old year, to-night and take 
Whatever of the future hovers near ; 

I care not of her new joys to partake 

If thou, e'en cold and dead, wilt linger here. 

I've wandered through so many new-found ways 
Within the radiant realms disclosed by thee, 

I've known such infinitely happy days 
As ne'er can come again, and seem to be 
One-half as bright as have been thine to me. 
My dying friend, I will remember thee ' 
40 



A LAMENT. 



Spring again, and fair, calm skies, 

Pearl and blue, 
Yet in vain my aching eyes 

Search for you. 

II. 

From long dreamings wake again 

Spring's sweet flowers, 
In my soul an infinite pain 

Which the hours 

III. 

Nor the years can take away ; 

Only tears, 
Springing at the close of day, 

When one hears 

4* 41 



42 A LAMENT. 

IV. 

God's voice neai'er in the calms 

Twilight brings, 
Losing sight of day's alarms, 
" Bitter stings- 



Spring again ! The second-born 

Since that day 
God called you, and left forlorn 

Me for aye. 

VI. 

Were you watching? Do you know, 

Little one, 
Whose hand brushed away the snow 

(Winter gone) 

VII. 

From your grave a month ago, 

From the cross 
Mutely telling as years go 

Of my loss? 



A LAMENT. 



VIII, 



43 



Have you heard me when I've said 

Prayers for you ? 
Have you felt me when I've laid 

Flowers on you ? 

IX. 

Nevermore shall spring return 

With her flowers 
That I shall not for you yearn ; 

And when lowers 



Autumn, with its frosts that kill 

Summer's flowers, 
I shall want my darling still 

At all hours. 



1879. 



DECISION. 



You will try hard to forget me ; 

Yes, you must, 'tis wiser so 
Though our parting was so bitter. 

It will soon from memory go. 
You may curse, but you will miss me ; 

Once, when love was at its best, 
Did you say as much, and hurt me, 

So close our hearts were prest. 



II, 

We will take the usual course, then, — 
Ours is not a new romance, — 

Shun all the haunts once dear to us, 
Give but a careless glance. 



44 



DECISION. 45 

Just how far will the farce be carried 

I ask now, for we did not say ; 
I can only seem to remember 

Your face as you turned away. 

III. 

Ah ! the hours since last I saw you, 

Heard your strained voice, let you go. 
Have done the work of years for me, 

Pride in the dust lies low. 
I was wrong; shall I stretch my arms in vain ? 

See ! my heart stands open wide; 
Return and enter, and turn the key 

On all the world beside ! 



AFTER. 



" I'm sorry, and I hurried back 

To tell you so," a sweet voice said ; 

But I was wounded then, and pride 
Forbade me e'eii to turn my head. 

n. 

To-night I grieve and pray beside 
Her grave, yet cannot shed a tear ; 

Death parted us ere I could say 

The words which now she cannot hear. 

III. 

I know, I know she pardoned me, — 
She was so gentle with me ever, — 

Yet, all the same, wet, wistful eyes 
Do follow me, and will forever ! 



A WHITE ROSE. 

" I wore this rose at my throat last night." 

TO A. 

I. 

The white rose came, nor is it yet quite dead, 
But, oh ! so near. Its dying breath is rife 

With 'wildering fragrance; though you had not said 
Your lips had touched it, I had known its life 
Was thus prolonged by you. 



II. 

The rose was faithful, it has brought to me 
The sign of your remembrance from afar 
Before its death. If I might this night see 

The eyes this fair rose charmed, the lips that are 
Quivering to meet my own ! 

47 



A WHITE ROSE. 



III. 



But, as I cry out this, the morn steals near, 
Her blushes tinge the white face of my rose ; 

Is it from morn's eyes or my own the tear 

That scorches our poor dying rose ? God knows, 
And I, my little one ! 



GOOD-BY. 



All is still, the stars are fading 
From the early morning sky. 

I am kneeling here persuading 
My poor heart that our good-by 

Was not, after all, forever ; 

Distance, days, nor death can sever 

Soul from soul, though I may never 
See thy face again. 



II. 

I shall pass thy window, dearest. 

As I take my life's new way; 
I shall fancy that thou hearest 

All my aching heart would say, 

5 49 



50 



GOOD- BY. 

As I hasten on and leave thee 
Lying there with naught to grieve thee, 
Though this heart would fain believe thee 
Moaning in thy dreams. 

III. 

No ! I cannot hurry on ; 

Just one moment I must stand 
In the snow there, ere the dawn 

Takes her rose-light from the land. 
Thou wilt hear my poor heart beating, 
Feel that I am there entreating 
God to guard thee till our meeting ; 

Now I rise and go ! 



PEARL-DEAD. 



There was a wondrous, dainty grace 
About her form, and then her face 
Was pure as new-born lilies are. 
Ere hands do gather them and mar 
Their purity. 

II. 

Always such gentleness in each tone 
(It broke my heart to hear her moan), 
And words from her were sweetly choice. 
Suiting this gentleness of voice 
To nicety. 

III. 

A longing look oft dimmed her eye 
When I (she trusted me) was by, 



51 



52 PEARL-DEAD. 

And wandering miles away, she'd dream 
Until the sweet blue eyes did seem 
Wet violets. 



- 1 cannot, cannot paint her face ; 
I never knew such perfect grace 
As God did vouchsafe to ray friend, 
Whom He unto my life did lend 

To make me blest ! 



TO 



White-winged and beautiful it came, 
The missive fraught with thy dear name, 
And sweet assurance that I claim 

Of thy fond heart 
(Else dedicate alone to Fame) 

A tiny part. 

II. 

A token this to me most dear, ■ 
Creating, by its advent here, 
A dies alba in the year 

Of mem'ry's life; 
A talisman to keep thee near 

In calm or strife. 

III. 

No longer may I dread the fall 
Of spirit night, and rush of all 

5* 53 



54 



TO 



The phantoms that did erst appall 

My shuddering soul ; 
One thought of, thee, and I recall 

My lost control. 



IV. 

Now read I right the legend rare, 
Pygmalion's Bride. As lifeless were 
My soul's creations, and as fair; 

Thou cam'st, and, lo ! 
Each vision thrilled and leapt to share 

Thy spirit's glow ! 



I cannot think the time hath been 
When floods lethean rolled between 
Thy soul and mine, for well I ween 

Before the years 
They basked together in the sheen 

Of brighter spheres. 



TO . 

VI. 

Whate'er thy lot or weal or woe 
Thou "half of all my spirit,"* know 
My heart attends thee here below 

Unto the end; 
Thy hope be mine, thy foe my foe, 

And I thy friend. 

* Horace, 



55 



HER LAST WISH. 



Marie Duplessis, a woman, well throughout all Paris 

known, 
Marie Duplessis lies grieving in her sumptuous home 

alone. 

II. 

Save a famous grave-faced surgeon, save one maid 

whom she can trust,. 
No one stands within that chamber save one visitor 

august. 

HI. 

Death has come here ! death has found her ! death, 

the only one she fears, 
He has found her now, and horror chills her poor soul 
as he nears. ' 
56 



HER LAST WISH. 



IV, 



57 



Now and then in her delirium, meek as any little child, 
She will look up in their faces, and her own seems 
undefiled. 



V. 



Innocent, and, oh, how lovely ! all her wealth of yellow 

hair 
Falling 'round her as a glory, now no longer as a snare. 



VI. 

Now the carmine lips that tempted other souls till they 

were lost, 
Only part for moans, not kisses, — restlessly the head is 

tost. 

VII. 

Nothing they suggest desiring, wearily she moans and 

moans ; 
Ah ! that voice, that voice so famous for its rich and 

well-trained tones ! 



58 HER LAST WISH. 

VIII. 

Sweet, sweet voice, now so pathetic that the eyes of 

man and maid 
Moisten as they stand and wonder whither now her 

mind has strayed. 

IX. 

Leaning o'er her now, the woman, loyal to her all 

these years, 
Hears her murmur indistinctly, sees her eyelids wet 

with tears. 

X. 

Suddenly the blue eyes open ! Reason has come back 

again. 
And the man of skill, perplexed, her great want to 

find is fain. 

XI. 

"Marie Duplessis, what is it? Name this hunger of 

the heart. 
For your wish's swift fulfilling I, if need be, will depart. 



HER LAST WISH. 59 

XII. 

Tell me!" Slowly turned the great eyes that had 

lured men's souls away 
On the man, — "I want my mother, and she is so far 

away ; 

XIII. 

Far in one way. I chose rather all these years to give 

no sign 
That I lived, for, oh ! I could not let her white life 

come near mine ! 

XIV. 

Bring her here before delirium leads my mind away 

again ; 

Punishment for me, the sinner, will begin to see her 

pain." 
:Jc * * * * * * 

XV. 

Swift into the peaceful country sped a messenger away. 
Long indeed the sufferer deemed it until sunset the 
third day. 



6o HER LAST WISH. 

XVI. 

When within that room' luxurious poured the sunlight 

on that day, 
Glided -in a little figure, — knelt the peasant mother to 

pray ; 

XVII. 

Kissed in the old way the white face, once, tvvice, 

thrice, then down beside 
Her poor wanderer knelt the mother, — knelt and 

prayed till Marie died. 



SYMPATHY. 

I. 
Yearneth thy heart for a sweet friend dead, 
Sigheth thy heart for a dear day fled ? 
I pity thee^ my friend. 

II. 
Hast known regret for a word unspoken, 
When a loving heart did await some token? 
My friend, God comfort thee. 

III. 
Has spoken ungently to one now gone. 
Hast lain on her grave and grieved alone ? 
I know God heard thy prayer. 

IV. 

Hast been harshly judged, misunderstood. 

By one to whom thou'st wished but good ? 

God understood thy heart. 

6 6i 



62 SYMPATHY. 



Has the friend of thy' heart and soul false proved, 
The friend of all the world best loved ? 

Christ pities thee, poor one ! 



DISCOURAGED. 



My arms to-night are aching 

With lifting my soul to God, 
My heart I feel is breaking, 

'Twas so hard, that last blow of the rod ! 

II. 

The nerves of my soul are aching, 

They seem bared to that last stinging blow, 
And it trembled like one awaking 

At midnight alone in the snow. 

III. 

The faith I had garnered seems dying, 
My sensitive soul sighs for heaven, 

O Jesu ! the hours are flying. 

Haste ! my soul to despair will be given ! 

63 



DIVINE REPROACH. 



What have I done to-day, dear Lord, 

Which of my careless words have wounded Thee? 
Thy tender, piteous eyes do seem to say, 

" Desist, ray child, for thou art paining me !" 

11. 

Rich golden sunbeams reach to kiss Thy face, 
A halo bright and glorious wreathes Thy head. 

Still, still the eyes within my soul can trace 
Within Thine own pure eyes a look of dread. 

III. 

Oh ! tell me, suffering One, am I the cause? 

Dost Thou detect some coming sin for me ? 
Then bid my blinded soul draw back and pause 

Before another wound is dealt to Thee. 



DIVINE REPROACH. 



IV. 



65 



Ah, stay ! perhaps I have not failed to-day 
In prayer to Thee ; but Thou may'st see 

Some of Thy children suffering far away; 

Let me but reach Thy feet and look with Thee ! 



Thine eyes, before so sad, are glowing now 

With radiant light, to lead me where they dwell ; 

Ah ! let me hear some eve when I come home 

From Thy pure lips, " 'Tis well, my child, 'tis well!' 



6* 



A MAGDALEN. 



Dear Christ, I dare to bring my flowers 

Unto Thy sacred heart, 
I who have seen the golden hours 

With empty hands depart. 

II. 

I who have laid my flowers till now 

Upon an earthly shrine. 
My roses on a creature's brow, 

Not at Thy feet divine ! 

III. 

And not till Thou didst show to me 

How faithless human love, 

Did I for comfort turn to Thee, 

Lift my soul's eyes above. 
66 



A MAGDALEN. 67 



IV. 



Who save my God would take at last 

A disappointed heart 
Unto His own, forget its past, 

And take an outcast's part? 



Sorrow has paled the roses fair, 
God-given when I was pure ; 

A weary woman, I hardly dare 
Count Thy forgiveness sure. 

VI. 

Only one gift I beg of Thee 

Ere I again depart. 
Give, O my Saviour, give to me 

My childhood's stainless heart. 



REGRET. 



Do you forgive now the impatient word, 
The ear that seemed heedless? Oh, never unheard 
Fell one tone, though like snow-flakes, as quiet, as pure. 
But found its way down into one heart, be sure. 

II. 

I loved you so, dear, that I never could show 
All the love in my heart ; but to-night you must know. 
Since the radiance of heaven has o'er your soul beamed, 
All there was in my heart, how of you it had dreamed. 

III. 

I wonder if heaven is too far away 

For your eyes to see mine, wet with tears night and day ? 

Does your heart hear the moaning of mine left below? 

Dear, I tliink you'd come back to me could you but 

know 
68 



REGRET. 69 

IV. 
What the world is without you. You made it so bright 
That now, since God took you, a darkness like night 
Seems ever o'erhanging my desolate way. 
Which no new star can brighten to my dying day. 



I might have been oftener more tender with you, 
Oftener gladdened your kind heart, so noble, so true ; 
Oh ! forgive e'en the slight wounds I dealt ere you 

died, 
For, however it seemed, darling, God knows I tried ! 



QUESTIONING. 



My little Rosalind, — whom our tenderness names 
Rose, — 

With your young flushed face against mother's breast, 

Resting as anxious mothers never rest, 
How will life deal with you, child, who knows? 

II. 

Dear little angel-child, who each day grows 

Still lovelier in my eyes, whose queer, quaint words 
Please mother's ear as ne'er could warbling birds, 

Shall the hard world bruise the tender heart, — who 

knows ? 

III. 

Oh, little one, there is one ''Mystic Rose," 

Queen of the roses all in Paradise ; 

When my rose fades, shall the sweet soul rise 

To bloom forever 'neath her pure eyes? God knows. 
70 



DISAPPOINTMENT. 



How much I thought of meeting you again ! 

In watching for the joy that hour would bring 
I lost what grace the past year brought to me, 

And, save the lesson, gained not anything. 



My heart was warm wrapped in its love for you, 
My memory blind to every face save one ; 

I could not, had I died, more faithful been. 

The hour came and passed, — love's time is gone. 

III. 

So warm to one, and to all others cold, 
Selfish to all, yet generous unto you ; 

Saving my eyes, voice, lips as I had sworn, 
Only too proud to prove my love was true. 

71 



72 DISAPPOINTMENT. 



IV. 



Spring, erst so dear, brought violets in vain. 

"Spring will return," I said, and let them fade 
Ungathered for the first time in my life ; 

From one great hope not for an hour thought strayed. 



Fair June, rose-laden, raised her blushing face. 
And crept up to my very window-sill. 

While I, who loved her so in years agone. 
Forgot to smile down on her there until 

VI. 

Fierce suns had kissed the color from her lips. 

And thus my year went by, the year I thought 
Would be my brightest. ►Now 1 have no wish 

To know what the New Year for me has brought. 



A LULLABY. 

I. 

Falls the snow, falls the snow 

Softly at eventide, 
Just as the angels come and go, 

Silent and white when down beside 
Baby's bed they lean them low, 

Falls the snow, 'tis eventide. 

II. 

Snow-drop mine, snow-drop mine, 
Falling asleep like these flowers, — 

Mine, mine, my baby mine, — 
Safe while the chilly night lowers. 

Sleep till the smiles of the angels shine 
Into your eyes as the sun in the flowers'. 
■ 7 73 



IN THE FIRELIGHT. 



TO M- 



I. 

If I could have you once again 

Some time within the future's keeping, 

As I have you to-night, my pain 

Were less intense, my soul is weeping! 

II. 
That we've been happy who'll deny, 

In this dear room here, just together ? 
I hardly think that you or I 

Know if 'tis fair or cloudy weather. 

III. 
I say (here at your knees reclining), 

"I wonder if it rains to-night?" 
You marvel "if the moon is shining 
While we dream in the firelight." 
74 



IN THE FIRELIGHT. 

IV. 
Yet neither rises to look out, 

As haste the hours on to midnight ; 
Content are we to stay in doubt. 

And talk, low-voiced, here in the firelight. 

V. 
Oh, let me keep you here forever. 

For always stay, beloved, stay ! 
Alas ! a few more hours will sever 

Our hands — not hearts — for many a day. 

VI. 

Long as my lonely heart shall throb 
My memory will love this night. 

And in my ears will sound the sob 

You gave, and shrank back from the light. 

VII. 

Dear, think of me, and for me pray 
When dreaming in your firelight, 

For sadness with my soul must stay 
When once you pass beyond my sight ! 



75 



DIES ALBA. 



Love, it was God (I cannot call it Fate, 
Our love has proved too beautiful and true) 

Who bore my heart so far to find its mate. 

From Northern snows to Southern suns and you. 



Strange, strange and sweet, dear heart, 'twill ever seem 
How you, so honored and so worshipped there, 

Should have glanced down on only me, to deem 
My face (but glad and eager) passing fair. 

III. 

Strange how we met, and how our spirits clasped 

Warm hands ere you could come to seek for me, 

Of all that concourse, knowing I had grasped 

The meaning of each word and glance all perfectly. 
76 



DIES ALBA. 



IV. 



77 



They led me there, and all unconscious I 

So near to heaven my heedless feet did move, 

With lowered lids saw I none pass me by 
Up the sweet pathway leading to your love. 



Then, as a dreamer, lifted I mine eyes, 

Which erst as beauteous ones as yours had seen, 

But never^-sure as true love never dies — 
Will eyes say all yours said to mine, I ween ! 



VRAI JUSQU'A LA MORT. 

I. 
He was fair and fine, this lover of hers, 

With a chronic smile ; 

He had heard of guile, 
To hyperbole was not averse. 

II. 

He swore at the sea-shore in July, 

In sequestered nook. 

With impassioned look, 
That to win her he would die ! 

in. 

" Oh ! no such sacrifice," said she ; 

" I pray you live, 

And merely give 

That sapphire ring to me." 
78 



VJ^AI yUSQU'A LA MORT. 79 



IV. 



" O love, not that !" (and he drooped his head) 

"I hope 'twill not grieve you, 

But, not to deceive you, 
'Tis the gift of my poor third wife," he said. 



HOW SFIE SAID IT. 



You want to hear those three short words, 

But very hard are they ! 
Why not make love now like the birds, 

Who never a word need say ? 

II. 

A woman loves to hear them said, — 

Yes, and to say them, too ; 
But one's cheeks grow so very red 

Before one is half through ! 

III. 

Now, if I saw you come this way, 

Perhaps I'd run to meet you 
(Not going miles out of my way) 

With hands held forth to greet you ; 
80 



HOW SHE SAW IT. 

IV. 

But when, the hot sun glaring so, 
A great strong lover dares you 

To tell him something he must know 
Already, why it scares you. 

V. 

Will it not do to say,. I'm glad 

Whenever I am near you ; 
That, whether you are bright or sad 

Or stern, I do not fear you? 

VI. 

Though you could crush poor little me, 

My lover, strong and tall, 
As I could crush these flowers by me, 

I'm not afraid at all ! 

VII. 

You giants, when your hearts are found. 
The gentlest of mankind are. 

(My lady had been " looking 'round" 
Before he chanced to find her !) 



82 BOW SHE SAID IT. 

VIII. 
Your quick, firm tread my ears do know 

From all that hurry past, 
And always, always I do go 

And watch you till the last. 

IX. 

When others praise you I grow still 
(Your name I rarely speak aloud), 

Yet at their praise my eyes do fill ; 
I listen, and feel very proud. 

X. 

" I never kissed you yet ?" Oh, no ; 

You did me once, against my will ; 
But some day I may even grow 

More lenient. Are you angry still ? 

XI. 

That was the night of your return ; 

You took me for your sister ; 
Now let your own cheeks flush and burn : 

She came — you never kissed lier ! 



HOW SHE SAID IT. 83 

XII, 
You were confused that special night 

(You argue) by the gloaming; 
Next time a light shall aid your sight 

When you return from roaming ! 

XIII. 

A rose fell from my belt that night, 

But you were not aware ; 
I thought just such a trifle might 

That great, fair man ensnare ! 

XIV. 

O lover with the head of gold, 

And eyes so blue and true. 
Now, after all you have been told, 

I will not say "■ I love you !" 



A MAN SPEAKS. 

You will-o'-the-wisp of a woman, 

Most whimsical, sweetest under the sun, 
Who can love like mad while the fever lasts. 
Then hate like mad when the fever's done; 

Who can praise me, 

Please me. 

Tease me. 

Freeze me. 

All in a moment, if so you will; 

Though you've made me weep, 

Though you've banished sleep, 

Though you've stolen my heart, 

Which you're sure to keep, 

How you will laugh, shake your dainty head, 

Saying I'm foolish when I have said, 

"Be wayward, petulant, pouting, or gay. 

Audacious or penitent, either you may, 

I shall never forget I have had my day !" 
84 



TO 



Still wield your sceptre gracefully 
Over the many whom you sway, 

But in your great heart let there be 
A little place where I may stay ! 



Ciel ! how beautiful you are ! 

Men hold their breath when you appear 
Gloriously fair, like some lone star 

Which all may gaze on, not go near. 

in. 

Oh ! you were wondrous fair to-night. 

Both men and women felt your power ; 

What would they pay me for the right 

To sit at your feet thus for an hour? 

8 85 



86 TO . 

IV. 

Shall I sell my right, and a fortune gain, 
To last me, sweet, for many a year? 

I'd rather a beggar be, and in pain 

Lie moaning my life out, so you were near ! 

V. 

Love, let me be the little flower 
The queen doth single out as meet 

To lay on her breast in a quiet hour 

From all the flowers that fall at her feet ! 

VI, 

As the dew softly falls on the flower's heart. 
Let the dew of my great love fall on yours ; 

Laugh, sweet, with the others, but be it my part 
Some comfort to give you in sadder hours. 

VII. 

Still give them your rippling laugh, your smile. 
Still yield them your glances frank and bright ; 

But always rest on my heart awhile 
After your triumphs, like to-night. 



EASTER MORN. 



'Tis just a year to-day since she, 
Always so thoughtful, sent to me- 
Knowing I loved her tenderly — 
This lovely Easter-card. 



A daintier gift there could not be, 
Her love designed it just for me, 
And this, '*in time and eternity 
Sweet peace and joy be yours !" 

III. 

These words from one who pitied me 
Followed quickly across the sea : 
" Scarce had she sent that wish to thee 
When her soul awoke in eternity." 

87 



IN THE ORCHARD. 



"It will not hurt me much," a woman said, 
Yet while she spoke unconsciously the head 
Was turned away, and cold, as were she dead. 
Became her smiling lips. 

II. 

" I give you back your freedom, since I know 
'Tis honor that of late has held you, so 
In mercy I release you ; you may go, 

And my prayers follow you." 

III. 

Just as a child, this sweet spring morn, would steal 
The pinkest blossom bending there, nor feel 
Remorse, saying, "Oh! that wound with time will 
heal, 

And injure not the tree," 



IN THE ORCHARD. 89 

IV, 

Men steal the color from a woman's face, 
And say, "Another season will replace 
I ler roses ; she has lost that faultless grace 
She had a year ago." 



1 heard, and thought : the fruit shall missing be 
Where careless hands in glad May robbed the tree, 
And though the years should bring again to thee 
Thy roses, faith is dead ! 



8* 



BIDING JUDGMENT. 



Thou hast not died, yet thou art dead to me, 
This dreariest of all truths in life I know ; 

There rolls between us no broad cruel sea, 

My eyes could quickly find thee would Pride go. 



The whole world dares approach to speak to thee 
(For thou art living, though so dead to me), 

And thou mak'st answer, yea, and smilingly, 
To those whose treachery thou dost not see. 

III. 

I am at peace some days, at night, oh, never ; 

Just when my soul and body need repose 

Thou com'st to me, and thou wilt come forever 

To part my wound, but ne'er its lips to close. 
90 



BIDING JUDGMENT. 



IV. 



For one small doubt you poisoned life and love, 
And for the rest of time let go my hand ; 

Then I grew proud. I wait now till above 
This lonely world before God we two stand ! 



IN A CONVICT'S CELL. 



The world is still as death ! are you asleep, 
My sole friend over there beyond wild waves, 

Or, though 'tis midnight, do you vigil keep 
With one who cannot cross to you for graves 
That intervene ? 



Is every saint in heaven shedding tears. 

That on this night the earth is drowned in rain ? 

Oh, think you not they pity us the years. 
The lonely, weary years we've lived in vain, 
Always apart ? 

III. 

Reach out your arms ere yet it be too late. 

And hold me, e'en in spirit, to your breast; 
92 



IN A CONVICT'S CELL. 



93 



One touch of your pure lips would compensate 
For all the nights I writhed here without rest 
And begged to die ! 

IV. 

The world is cold as death ; you do not sleep, 
You feel how I am shivering, how my breath 

Is failing. Not alone my watch I keep. 

Nor ever shall, till heaven shall send real death 
To break these chains ! 



DEATH IN LIFE. 



I DO not call what's left in her a heart : 
In whispering of a form howe'er once fair, 
An hour after death has entered there, 
We say, "It's cold," not "she," as we depart 
Half-hurriedly, while burning tears start. 



May we not call him murderer when one 

First teaches some young heart to worship him, 
Then turns and stabs it when the eyes are dim, 
Too dim with tears to let their owner run 
Beyond his reach before the deed is done? 
94 



DEATH IN LIFE. 



III. 



95 



This cleaving of the heart, if that were all, 

The heart might beat, yet bleed till life were o'er; 
But who in God's wide world can e'er restore 

The faith that young heart lost, though it should call 

For faith until it rest beneath the pall? 



FAILURE. 



Take down your hands, and let them not be wet 
With tears for me ; you must have no regret, 
And, for the love of God, no pity show ; 
Nor need you speak your answer, since I know 
Without a word ! 



Throw back your veil of beautiful gold hair,- 
I may not even touch you sitting there, — 
I see, just from the way you hide your face, 
My great love's fate : another has the place 
For which I'd die ! 

Ill, 

I fancy you're recalling (from your tears) 
My faithfulness to you in all these years. 



FAILURE. 97 

When I have been outside your heart, yet thought 
I was enthroned therein, until I brought 
My own to you. 

IV. 

You must not fear for me, nor pity me ; 
My heart, being yours, a parting gift shall be ; 
Why shall I take it back because I find 
The door is barred ? My eyes were blind, 
Not yours the fault ! 

V. 

So let it lie outside, — you must not care, — 
In all the years you live let it watch there ; 
I dare to tell you, since to-night we part, 
It will be happier e'en outside your heart 
Than in another's ! 



A MUSICAL RHYME. 



Paul Pianissimo, gentle of voice, 

Sought the wide world through, yet made not a choice 

That pleased his fastidious fancy. 

II. 

Miss Gay Allegretto, so winsome and bright, 
Seemed too full of levity in Paulo's sight; 
"I'll seek one more pensive," sighed Paulo. 

III. 
Adora Andante, of voice sweet and low, 
Did seem to Sir Paulo a trifle too slow, 
"Yet," said he, "she approaches my fancy!" 

IV. 

Aurora Adagio solemnly glanced 

At the sweet Paulo as past her he pranced ; 

"Ugh ! too dismal, by all odds," quoth Paulo. 



A MUSICAL RHYME. py 



And thus, ere his eye was pleased, Paulo grew old ; 
No one would have him till one damsel bold 
Did take him to spite a lost lover. 

VI. 

Bravura Fortissimo's ear-rending voice 

Soon made Paulo repent he had not made a choice 

In the days when he might have had any one ; 

VII. 

For Madame Pianissimo, morning and night. 
Did shriek at poor Paulo till, in frenzied fright, 
He plunged into the vast Sea of Melody ! 

VIII, 

Miss Adagio, all dignity, Andante the mild, 
Allegretto, each one of these ladies, they smiled 
As they murmured, "He might have done better!" 



FIRST MESSAGE. 

TO M. M. W. 



Seven weary, lonely days, Elaine, 
Since Ave our heavy eyes did strain. 
Seeing death's pallor and its pain 
On either's face. 

II. 

And now, at dusk, when head and heart 
Are suffering so that tears start, 
Your message comes back to impart 
New life to me. 

III. 
In those dear days when we could say 
Aloud what feelings moved us, — nay, 
Could let our eyes meet in a way 
Each understood, — 



FIRST MESSAGE. ■ loi 

IV. 

I never dreamed when you'd have gone, 
Leaving me joyless here alone, 
That written words could so atone 
For eye and hand. 

V. 

I knew by heart an hour ago 
Each written word of yours, and, oh ! 
Forgive, forgive; but since I know 
You suffer so, 

VI. 

My heart aches less, and I am glad 
(Do I seem cruel?) to know how sad 
Life's face has looked, love, since you bade 
Farewell to me. 

VII. 

There hides within the words you sent 
Assurance of such sweet intent, 
I know your entire strength was lent 
To writing so ! 
9* 



FIRST MESSAGE. 

VIII, 
I feel how here, just at this word, 
Your being in its depths was stirred ', 
I know now in that hour you heard 
My cry for you ! 

IX. 

All things so miss your presence here ! 
The house did never seem so drear, 
The stars up there that shine so clear 
But sadden me. 

X. 

Till now I have not dared to stand 
In our old place, where, hand in hand. 
We watched the sun resign command 
To dusky night ; 

XI. 

Here, where we stood in the weird light 
The moon shed till you looked so white 
I claspt you closer, lest you might 
Leave me alone. 



FIRST MESSAGE. 



xir. 



White as you looked then, ray Elaine, 
May your lily heart and soul remain, 
Forever free from the slightest stain, 
Is my soul's prayer ! 



103 



SONG 



Come, for the sun is going down, 

Evening without thee will be drear ; 
Sleepless, my eyes still watch for thee ; 

Can'st thou my lone heart's plaint not hear? 
Dead in ray bosom lie the flowers 

That you at parting gave to me ; 
They ne'er again, nor our dead hours, 

Can live but in our memory. 



Could I but know, ere twilight fades. 
Whether thy heart were light or sad, 

Then, though so far away from thee, 
I could, like thee, be sad or glad ; 

But darkness falls, I cannot see thee, 

Longing, I call on thee in vain, 
104 



SONG. 105 

Not e'en to know, while night comes down, 

Whether we e'er shall meet again ; 
Oh ! when my life, like daylight, fades away. 

Must I, my darling, call for thee in vain ? 



TURNING A LEAF. 



She laughed when he threatened to turn o'er a leaf, 

He was so long in fulfilling, 
And cried, "Pray turn, this time, your dark^ page of 
grief; 

Be courageous, I'm e'en more than willing." 
The words were so cruel, his love was so strong. 

His courage came then : " Now or never !" 
And into her dangerous eyes he looked long 

Ere, with white lips, he left her forever. 



" He is jesting," she said; "he could never forsake 

Me; to-morrow will bring him again." 

No; the leaf has been turned, and the brave heart will 

break, 

While the woman's heart, too, shall know pain. 
io6 



TURNING A LEAF. 107 

So the story is ended, the volume closed tight; 

But who e'er forgot, though he tried, 
The pathos of certain books long lost to sight. 

When memory lay 'prisoned inside? 



SONNET. 

Low leans the lily to the wooing breeze, 

See how she trembles 'neath his warm caress, 
Yet, all unused to love, she strives to please. 

And, if she please, is filled with happiness. 
Far other is the mien of yonder rose, 

Yclad is she with scornful majesty ; 
Oh ! who shall dare his love to her disclose. 

Or haply keep unawed beneath her eye? 

E'en so 'tis vain to woo that heart of thine. 

E'en so 'tis vain to worship at its shrine. 

Where sits enthroned high thought of things above. 

Abstract, and noting not this verse of mine, 

Whose sober plaint must unavailing prove. 

E'en though it hide thy name as doth my heart thy 

love. 
io8 



SONNET. 



TO S. M. 



I LOVED her voice ere I beheld her face, 

That night I first knelt in the chapel dim, 

And listened to the low, sweet vesper hymn 

That made a heaven of the quiet place. 

In one rich voice I fancied I could trace 

A tone of pathos, ere my glad eyes saw 

The face, — a tone the French call " larmes au voix^ 

I felt, then, that this voice of saddened grace. 

That hushed my homesick heart to rest that night, 

Rose from a woman's soul that had been tried 

By years of yearning for some clearer light. 

E'en while the world with joys for her seemed bright, 

Though paled were they by joys she found in flight, 
lo 109 



SONNET. 

Dear one, who call'st my hands, my mind, my heart 
From every task which duty fain would set 
For their accomplishment, — who wilt not let 

Another creature in my thoughts have part 

This stormy night, — I wonder how thou art. 
The nights are lonelier now than when we met 
Each eventide ; we never knew regret 

Till destiny brought separation's smart, 

I ne'er shall look on thy dear face again : 
Thou canst not come, I cannot go to thee ; 

I know at this great distance there is pain 
And restless longing in thy soul for me ; 

Where'er thou art, I hunger to be there, 

Hunger and thirst, dear love, but do not dare. 



SONNET. 

As one who in the anguish of the year 

(When nature stricken lies, and self-confessed) 
Withdraws himself and all his heart's untest 

Apart from haunts of men, to wander near 

The reedy marge of some unruffled mere, 
And there uplifts his soul in prayerful quest 
Of Peace, whose after-coming makes him blest ; 

So, when emerging from their shades, I see 
,The horrid shapes that prey upon my soul, 

On wings of instant thought I fly to thee. 

And in the shelter of thy sympathy 

Grow brave and strong to reassert control ; 

Then say, though actual presence be denied. 

What fate shall here our kindred souls divide? 



SONNET. 

While we stand in the gloaming, heart to heart, 

So close that I can count your every breath, — 
So close no power of earth's our souls can part, — 

Is it so strange, near heaven, to think of Death? 
Is it so strange to marvel at what hour 

He, august king, shall beckon one away, 
And leave the other drooping, as a flower 

Must droop and die beneath chill autumn's sway? 

Next cometh Doubt, like lightning, and I wonder 

If any other woman after this 
Could win your eyes from mine, dear heart, and sunder 

Our clinging hands, our lips, after that kiss ; 
Being a man, you think not of to-morrow, 
While I, e'en in your arms, from fear must borrow. 



SONNET. 

Like visions seen in amaranthine skies, 

Ere shades of gloaming fill the tranquil air, 
Thy tender fancies, touched by genius rare, 

In varying shapes of loveliness arise, 

The joy at once of memory and its prize. 
Immortal longings do thy soul upbear, 
And nerve as well to suffer as to dare. 

Know well we all each passing hour to thee 
Vocation is to yet more perfect life, 

And to that better life which is to be ; 

No tale of woe but wakes thy sympathy, 
No stricken heart but finds thee pity-rife, 

And, to the failing sight, when thou art near. 

However dark before, the way is clear ! 

lo* 113 



SONNET. 

A WREATH of roses, O true heart, I send, 

A wreath of roses for thy natal day ; 

Nor do I fear a single bud's decay, 

Though sent from soul to soul so far away. 

Unlike the flowers of earth, time will but tend 

» 
Their loveliness to deepen. Lo ! I bend 

My knee and move ray lips, and at the sign, — 

Though coming from a soul defiled as mine, — 

Christ's mother, queen of heaven, will to thee send 

An angel with my ros'ry for thy soul. 

So precious in the eyes of God and in 

The eyes of her who greets thee from afar. 

O faithful friend ! beg God that I may be 

In heaven when thou art crowned eternally ! 
114 



SONNET. 

Oh ! never since that drear day we did part, 
My friend, have I borne half so sad a heart 
As in a dream I had of you last night, 
For you seemed lost to me, though still in sight. 
Some words I said that your sweet soul did wound 
So cruelly, that no words could be found 
For you to speak ; and into your dear eyes 
A look, heart-broken, stole of hurt surprise. 
A moment more, and round your form was shed 
That light we see about a saintly head. 
You were a saint, I thought, — a saint forever, — 
And I my soul's remorse could tell you never ! 
Ah ! never till that bright day when we meet 
Will I the morn with such great gladness greet. 

"5 



GOOD-NIGHT. 



TO M. H. 



Good-night, dear heart, so far from mine, 
Good-night, fair face, for which I pine, 
O'er thy life's way forever shine 
God's radiant stars. 



O golden head ! O fair, proud face ! 
Unmatched in all the world for grace, 
How far thou art from thine own place 
Upon my heart ! 



Though miles and miles do intervene 

Thine eyes, dear one, and mine atween, 

From Morn's birth till the death of E'en 

Mine watch for thee. 
Ii6 



GOOD-NIGHT. ny 

Good-night, dear lips and tender eyes, 
Sweeter are none 'neath any skies, 
Angels watch o'er thee till the dear eyes 
Unclose in heaven. 

Farewell, fond heart, so far away ; 
Oh ! for the power Thought owns, — to stay 
Near thee forever, by night, by day ; 
Sweetheart, good-night ! 



THE END. 



